Too Young
by CamiBelle
Summary: Jumping on the Fred deathfic bandwagon. Basically what I thought might have happened when George found his dead twin. REWRITTEN because I realized that my writing was bad. Hopefully this is better.


"Avada Kedavra!" Fred narrowly missed the curse that the dark witch sent his way. He had defeated many of the dark lord's followers with ease, but this one woman was a far greater witch then he originally believed her to be. He had been battling with her for quite some time now and he still had yet to do great harm to her.

Gathering up all his strength, he pointed his wand at the witch with what he hoped would be a successful curse, but a faint hissing in the breeze caught his attention.

"You have fought valiantly. But in vain. I do not wish this," Fred heard a snake-like voice whisper. "Any drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste."

Fred had never heard a voice filled with so much evil and hatred before. _What could cause a creature to be filled with such hate?_ Fred thought to himself as he kept his wand trained on the dark witch, who was also listening keenly to the hissing voice. _  
_

His ears went back to the obsequious voice echoing throughout the hall.

"I therefore command my forces to retreat." Wait, _his_ forces? Could that be-? No. It couldn't be Lord Voldemort. But then again, who else would it be?

"In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity."

Not wishing to spend any less time away from his twin, Fred hurriedly ran towards the archway where he had last seen his brother. Unfortunately, Fred would never see George again, but he didn't know this at the time. He was just about to run down the corridor when a large explosion burst in front of him, and that was the last thing he saw.

* * *

George had been searching all over the castle and still had not managed to locate his twin. He hadn't remembered the exact moment that they were separated, so he had nothing to go on. He figured that he would be able to just sense where Fred was, but unfortunately that didn't really work out for him. So he had resorted to running around the castle.

"Fred? Where'd you get off to?" George started to feel anxious. The Weasley twins had never been apart for such a long time before. How he longed to laugh with Fred about Ron's stupid sweater or Percy's idiotic girlfriend or something equally as unimportant. That was how life was supposed to work for them. But little did George know that his life was about to change completely.

"Come on, Fred. Where are you?

George turned corner after corner, going upstairs and downstairs, through the dungeons and on the roof, but he still hadn't found his brother. _Where could he have possibly gone? _he kept asking himself._  
_

Finally, George found himself at the end of a long corridor. He had no idea what to expect once he turned the corner at the end of the hall. On a normal day, he wouldn't have believed that an entire chunk of the wall had been taken out by what looked to be an explosion. Nor would he have believed that there were corpses of dark witches and wizards littering the grounds. But this was not a normal day for George Weasley.

But even on this not so normal day, he never would have expected this.

"F-Fred?" the red-haired boy said, hoping that what he saw was not in fact his twin. He ran as fast as he could and skidded to a stop next to the familiar boy. He pushed the red hair from Fred's face and looked into his eyes, which once so full of hope and laughter, were nothing but a cavern of darkness.

"No, no, no, no, no. Come on, Fred. W-wake up!" George put his shaking hand on his brother's cold face. "Y-you can't be dead. Please, Fred! You pr-promised you'd make it out alive! Don't you _dare_ leave me now."

George looked into his brother's lifeless eyes, hoping, _pleading,_ for some response. But none came.

"Come on, Fred!" George desperately shook his brother, hoping to wake him up. Finally, the boy realized that nothing could bring his brother back, and he sobbed into Fred's bloodstained shirt, hoping that this was all just a bad dream.

George sat there for nearly an hour, his sobs gradually dying down to only the occasional cry of distress. This is when Arthur and Molly found him. Arthur, saddened beyond belief but keeping up a front, knelt down and picked up Fred so they could take him to the hospital wing and to the rest of their family. Molly let out a cry herself when she saw that her two boys had been reduced to one. She ran over to George, holding her boy and comforting him while she herself couldn't hold back the tears. _They were too young, _she thought as she slowly helped a broken George to his feet. _Too young to go through such a loss._


End file.
